


Home Again

by kibasniper



Category: Umineko no Naku Koro ni | When the Seagulls Cry
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Deception, Denial, Dysfunctional Family, Family Secrets, Gen, Other, Psychological Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-27 08:29:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16215296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kibasniper/pseuds/kibasniper
Summary: Ange's family has returned, and they are safe, happy, and united. She has her brother, father, and mother once again at the cost of pinning the blame on someone else.





	Home Again

“Ange-chan, is the curry too spicy?”

Kyrie’s voice rings out at the dinner table. Her words drag Ange’s attention away from her sticky rice, which falls off her chopsticks and trickles into the curry, sinking between the carrots and onions. Ange looks up, her eyes wide and gazing at her family as if they are not there.

Before her are her mother, her father, and her dear brother. Their backs are straight, and their lips are drawn into thin lines. None of them speak and instead wait for Ange’s answer. The lights above them flicker just slightly enough for Rudolf to glance up to them.

Ange returns their apprehension with a grin and shakes her head. “Nope! It’s really good, Mom!”

Kyrie breaks with a smile and a tilt of her head. “That’s good. You know, Battler-san made your dinner specifically, so I can’t take credit for it.”

“Onii-chan did? I didn’t know he could cook! Dad always said he was bad at cooking!” Ange exclaims, her mouth falling open.

Battler winces, and he scratches the back of his head. “Aw, come on, Ange-chan! You don’t have to act surprise. I’m a man of eighteen! I can cook unlike Dad!”

Rudolf barks with laughter, reaching over the table and ruffling the bright red locks of Battler’s hair. “Don’t talk so big about yourself! Ange-chan’s dinner would’ve been completely burnt if Kyrie didn’t walk you through making the chicken.”

Swatting Rudolf’s arm away, Battler’s lips stretch into a smirk as he retorts, “Says the guy who needs Kyrie to make all of his meals! Shouldn’t a middle-aged man be a little proficient in the kitchen?”

Ange laughs as her brother and father banter, harmless and playful insults spilling over their tongues. She crosses her ankles and smiles as her mother rolls her eyes, a half-hearted grin perched on her face. Ange listens to Kyrie lecture them for relying on women to make their meals as they sheepishly avert her eyes. Ange bobs her head with every word Kyrie says.

Ange chomps down on her chicken, the juicy, tender meat breaking apart and melting on her tongue. She hums, closing her eyes and immersing herself in the warmth of her meal. Even though she’s had katsu chicken curry several times before, the delight in having her brother cook dinner for her makes the taste extraordinary. The carrots are just the right amount of savory, and the rice is fluffy, perfectly complimenting the tender meat.

“Hey, Ange-chan, I got a surprise for you,” Rudolf interjects, and Ange hums, swallowing a hearty bite of curry. Procuring a small calendar from his dungaree pocket, he flips it open as if he were splitting a deck of cards and stops his finger on Monday, October 13th, 1986. “In a few days, we’re all gonna go to Delsney Land! How’s that sound? Your mom and I made room in our schedules, and Battler’s gonna go, too.”

Stars sparkle in Ange’s eyes at his revelation. She raises her knuckles to her chin, sucking down a deep gasp, and she looks to her mother for affirmation. When Kyrie nods, Ange cheers and thrusts her tiny fists into the air.

She’s joined by Battler, who leaps up from his seat and snatches her waist. Battler twirls her around like a princess, and everyone’s laughter melds together. Battler proclaims he’ll win her several toys from game machines, and Ange touches her hair accessories, laughing so hard she begins to cry.

They are the picture perfect family just like the photographs on their walls presented them to be to the world. If someone looks through their window at this very moment, they would see nothing but bliss. Everyone’s eyes are like small suns, illuminating in perfect harmony. The mother and father hold hands, leaning against one another with the wife resting her head against her husband’s shoulder. The brother tosses his darling sister into the air, and in all of her innocence, she proclaims she loves them all.

Cleaning up after themselves, putting the dishes back in the sink for the mother to clean with the son offering to help, and the father and daughter settling down to watch some television, are all normal family activities. They carry on their evening, exchanging in pleasant conversation about the children’s upcoming school events and what to do at Delsney Land. For an outsider having a brief glance inside their world, they are the perfect family unit.

“...and now, we bring you the latest updates from the Rokkenjima Massacre.”

The news anchor’s voice cuts through the thin string holding them all together. Ange clamps her lips shut when she sees her parents and brother freeze, their attention strictly on the anchorman. She hesitates, her happiness faltering as the smoking remnants of the island she had once adored appears, and jer mind tricks her into believing she’s smelling the fiery smog.

In a dull voice, the anchorman says, “Today, the authorities have uncovered the jaw of Ushiromiya Maria, the only child of fellow victim Ushiromiya Rosa. Unfortunately, no other human remains have been found, but crews are diligently working to uncover the other victims.”

Ange’s eyes water as a photograph of her beloved cousin appears on the screen. Maria is standing among her classmates waving at the camera, and behind her, a smiling Rosa is patting her head. It seems to be a school event as Maria is wearing her gym uniform, a plain white shirt and black shorts, and Rosa is dressed rather casually with her hair in a low ponytail. Ange expects to see Maria’s stuffed toy in her hands, but her palms are open with splayed fingers. Sakutarou is not in sight, and Ange’s heart squeezes.

Battler cups Ange’s head, bringing her attention to him and saying, “It’s okay. They’re in the Golden Land.”

“Golden Land?” Ange whispers. “Like the one Maria-onee-chan told me about last year?”

Battler hesitates. “Uh, what? What do you mean?”

Ange puffs out her cheeks. “Maria-onee-chan said the Golden Witch Beatrice lived in the Golden Land and would take us all there one day.” She gasps. “Oh! If they’re in the Golden Land, we can visit, too!”

Kyrie and Rudolf flash a glance at one another, and with a faintly tight grin, Kyrie says, “He means they’re in a better place. They’re all peaceful in the afterlife playing games and having fun. You shouldn’t worry about them that much.”

Ange’s excitement deflates like a crumpled balloon. She lowers her fists and rests her fingers on her knees, numbly nodding. She is certain that Maria had told her so much about the peacefulness of the Golden Land, how humans and witches are equal there with love and candy all around. It’s a place she had always wanted to visit, but in Maria’s eyes, she is no longer welcome. What she had done to Sakutarou, denying his existence, was sacrilegious, and Beatrice seemed to agree, leaving Ange all alone in the warm arms of her family.

Rudolf clears his throat and grabs the remote when the news segment shows a photograph of Ange’s other aunt and silences the anchorman with a quick press of a button. The screen fades to darkness, casting the room in mute shadows. A ghost of a sigh escapes his lips as he mumbles that he needs a cigarette. He glances at Kyrie, but she shakes her head, pointing down at Ange.

“I won’t let you give her secondhand smoke,” she explains, and Rudolf chuckles.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. Hey, let’s all wash up.” Rudolf stands up, his back cracking from the effort. He clutches Ange and picks up the grinning girl, holding her to his chest and adding, “Let’s get you to bed first. We’re all tired from today.”

Ange would have protested, but her own loud yawn cuts her off. Heaviness coats her eyelids, and she clings to her father, inhaling the faint traces of soap, cologne, and smoke. She assumes he snuck out to have a drag when Kyrie was not looking, and Rudolf carries her upstairs to the bathroom. As he tells her to brush her teeth, she relishes when he kisses her brow.

“Okay, Dad!” Ange chirps, winking, and Rudolf pats her head.

She watches him descend the steps. Listening to the creaking of the floorboards as her father, Ange remains frozen in place. She glances around at the shadows coating the walls and covering her. Even though she is only person upstairs, the creeping sensation of eyes pinpointing on her back leaves her frozen.

As if snakes began to coil by her ankles, Ange hears her family hissing at one another. Sharp whispers filled with curses and irritation strike one another. Each word is a bullet striking someone, but the shooter recoils as more bullets gun them down.

They had been fighting every night since they returned from Rokkenjima. When they were certain she was in bed, Ange waited with her breath held against ruddy cheeks as they bickered about violence and gold. She remembered Rudolf grumbling about how they would turn gold into cash followed by Battler sneering at Kyrie to crawl back to the Sumaderas for help. Kyrie had silenced him with a sharp slap, one that would have echoed right into the Golden Land. At that point, Ange made herself known, pretending she had just woken up from a bad dream. Instantly, they all coddled her, their fighting long forgotten or so she had assumed.

Ange takes in a deep breath. She refuses to call down to them, knowing that she is a big girl and can handle herself. She guesses they are grieving in their own way. They are the only survivors of a mass murder, one she cannot fully grasp yet. Pivoting, Ange clutches the brass knob of the bathroom door and propels it open. On her tiptoes, she fumbles for a light, and with her index finger, she flips the switch.

A sigh of relief escapes her as she approaches the bathroom sink. She jumps onto the plastic step stool, feeling it slide, but she clutches the sink and steadies herself. Ange shivers and shakes her head, her own foolishness pinching her skin. If she fell, then her head would have become like a mashed watermelon.

When she looks up to grab her toothbrush secured in the metal holder, Ange stops. Her reflection gazes back at her, wide-eyed and matching her in every moment. Their pupils are black holes devouring her irises. Her fingers twitch around the sharp bristles of her parents’ toothbrushes as she tries to reach her own brush, but like her reflection, she cannot move.

Eva-oba-san is there. Eva-oba-san, with her hair matted with sweat, rain, and blood, gazes down at her. The bullet hole in her brain is large and black, deep enough for Ange’s tiny fist to fit through. Her dress clings to her body, wrinkled and charred. Small tears prick the corners of her eyes and begin to run down her cheeks, melting into her skin.

Ange’s mouth moves, but no sound emerges. She fears that if she moves then her aunt will kill her, too. Just like her family said, Eva will kill her like how she killed everyone in search of the gold. She massacred everyone, spilling their blood in desperate hopes to ascend to the king’s throne. At the very cost of her own son and husband, Eva is the killer, the one who grazed her mother in her thigh and almost killed her brother if her father had not boldly killed her first.

That is the truth Ange had been told. It is the truth her dear family told the world. Painting Ushiromiya Eva as the one who invoked the tragedy, became the truth accepted by the police based on their unified testimony, Eva’s past desires to be the head of the Ushiromiya family, and the genuine facts of Hideyoshi’s business needing money, which would have come from the allegedly hidden gold. She remembers how her parents and brother sobbed when they returned home, embracing her and showering her with kisses. They murmured and crooned over how much they loved her, and she wept as well, ignoring the ingot of gold that poked out of Kyrie’s pocketbook.

Ushiromiya Eva is the culprit who massacred Ange’s extended family. That is the truth in Ange’s heart because it is the truth woven by the innocent victims, her dear father, mother, and brother.

Yet, Eva smiles at her. She offers a tired smile that makes the dimples and wrinkles at the corners of her lips expand and deepen. Her hands are clasped over her heart as if to bless Ange, and when Ange glances down, she spots Maria, also bloodied and wet, hiding behind her, a familiar toy in her hand. Maria pouts, but then she breaks into a smile and imitates Eva.

“Ange-chaaan, watch out! It’s rainy, so be careful! You could trip and fall in the mud! Let oba-san help you!”

“Ange, Ange! Beatrice said she’d let you into the Mariage Sorciere! Maria’s gonna teach you all about magic! Uu, uu!”

Voices from the past enter Ange’s little head. The kind, helpful words of Eva and the eager encouragement from Maria seep out from the canyons of Ange’s memories.

“Don’t worry, Ange-chan. Father is never in a good mood. He always spanked me whenever I tried to enter his secret room, too, but it’s okay. Don’t cry, Ange-chan because Eva-oba-san will always be on your side.”

“Ange, look! Mama made him for me! He’s Sakutarou! He’s a veggie-lion and my friend! Uu, uu! Uu, uu! Here! You can hold him! He can be your friend, too! Ah, look! He already likes you, Ange! Uuu!”

Something is wrong. This is not what she should be remembering.

“Ange-chan, if you ever need help, I’ll come running for you. Oba-san loves you so much.”

“Ange, Beatrice was so happy with you! She said you’re gonna be an apprentice witch soon if you keep training! Uuu! Soon, soon, we’ll be witches forever in the Golden Land!”

The Golden Land, as described by Maria, is a place of paradise where all the sinners are forgiven. All love can be found, and no one has to despair. Maria and Eva and all the others are there right now while her family is safe and secure in the land of the living.

The truth hits her heart again when she blinks, and Eva and Maria are no longer there. Eva is the killer. Maria is her victim. This what her family beat into her brain when they came home from the police station, urging her to accept that Eva was the killer even when she cried and denied them. Their scorching expressions, ugly with heat and gnashing teeth, only became doused when she accepted their words as absolute. Then, they showered her with love.

Ange turns on the faucet and gazes at the translucent water. Taking her toothbrush, she gazes at the remaining three, and her fingers quiver, dropping her brush in the sink. Gasping, Ange wrenches it out, and water flies free above her, landing on her scalp. The lukewarm liquid slips down the bridge of her nose and lingers, becoming an ugly raindrop refusing to fall and splash on the counter.

“Yo, Ange! You’re taking a long time!” Battler calls from the stairs, and Ange squeaks, clutching her toothbrush to her chest.

“So-sorry, onii-chan! I’ll be done soon! I’m-I’m washing my face!” Ange shouts, and Battler laughs, a foreign sound piercing her eardrums.

“Got it! Well, take your time! Oh, by the way, Kyrie-san says to scrub behind your ears, too!”

“Yes!”

Ange tries to make her voice a song, but she cannot. It warbles and fades out. It becomes a dying sound she imagines that had emitted from the throat of one of her relatives. Staring at her reflection, Ange begins the methodical process of brushing her teeth.

The real truth curses her with people she will never love again. Her family feel like strangers, changed from the kind souls she knew to creatures with underlying goals. Her heart still beats with love for them, but a wall is erected between them. Ange’s mask is glass, which may shatter in an instant if they sense her weakness.

Eva-oba-san is not the killer. She loves her aunt, so she cannot be the culprit, but at the same time, she loves her family, so they cannot be the murderers. She loves them too much to see over the wall her heart created to protect her from a truth that she does not want to fathom.

So, she brushes her teeth and resumes her role as the treasured, cute daughter and sister. It is all she can do even if she feels like she is spitting in the faces of the dead while the alternative truth creeps up her spine. She is Ushiromiya Ange, the one who will deny the truth and cry in the face of it.

\---

“How cruel,” Yukari Kotobuki murmurs as she pushes away the notebook. She reclines in her seat, her quill pen making her feel like a witch from centuries ago.

“Don’t say that. Didn’t I fulfill my end of our deal, my piece?” Bernkastel sneers, and she gingerly sips her plum tea, the fruity taste calming her. Reclaiming the notebook, it transforms into a deep blue fragment. She pockets it with a tempered grin.

“I suppose so. You did say you would bring me a fragment of my family returning to me,” Yukari concedes with a sigh. The older woman brushes her hair over her shoulder. She flips the page of her most recent work, another installment of The Adventures of Sakutarou, and she continues to write.

Bernkastel chuckles, pushing her tea towards Yukari and says, “Even though the opportunity of this fragment happening was in the low tenths of a million, I still found it. Of course, I had to search for a perfect replica of my game to find it, but I did. I’d say that’s miraculous.”

“You even overcame an odd established by Lambdadelta. I guess that really is a miracle,” Yukari replies, and she rests her knuckles against her cheek.

Bernkastel watches Yukari’s pen speed across the white page, spreading glossy letters in her new manuscript. Standing, Bernkastel stretches and steps away, thanking Yukari for the tea. Yukari looks over to her, but she is nothing more than a cat carving its claws against the wooden chair. Chuckling, Yukari strokes behind her ear as her doors creak open, revealing Ikuko entering with new teacups. Yukari greets her with a calm smile, resting her pen on the table.

“I take it my cute kitty has been keeping you company,” Ikuko says, and Yukari chuckles.

“She entertained me with a cruel tale. You should discipline her,” Yukari says, but the cat hisses at her, and Yukari winces. “Then again, she’s a feral brat. I don’t know how you can stand her.”

Ikuko snickers and plucks her pet into her arms. Stroking between her ears, Ikuko says, “Even cruel cats can provide some nice entertainment. How’s the next story coming along? Did my little kitty offer you any ideas?”

Yukari hesitates, her eyes tracing the words she had just written. Closing her eyes, she says, “No. I’m affirmed in my beliefs.”

Ikuko reclines in her seat, her back pressing against the new splinters on her chair. “That’s good. Will you read to me what you’ve written?”

Yukari smirks and turns back to the beginning, whispering, “Just like old times.”


End file.
